


Peer Review

by unadrift



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Gen, Mentor/Protégé
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 11:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12629544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadrift/pseuds/unadrift
Summary: “I take it back,” Barba says, a few lines in. “I thought we were past you trying to tell me how to do my job.”Carisi springs into action. “Oh, that’s just… That’s not supposed to be in there.” He tries to snatch the paper away, but Barba pulls it out of reach just in time.“Ah, no. I’m reading this, if you hadn’t noticed.” Sue him, he’s curious now.





	Peer Review

**Author's Note:**

> So. Canon (specifically Dodds) suggested that Carisi spent a fair amount of time shadowing Barba. Carisi himself thanks Barba for all his help and support after taking the Bar exam. It doesn't feel like we got to see enough of actual shadowing or support that would merit these reactions. That has me wondering what might have happened there, and apparently it has me writing in a new fandom. 
> 
> This fic is not beta'd. It features canon-typical case-related mention of rape (non-graphic).

Barba leaves Liv’s office after a somewhat fruitful meeting and finds the squadroom busy, which suits him just fine. If the SVU detectives were twiddling their thumbs, they might want to strike up conversation for which he doesn’t have any patience.

Carisi is at his desk, typing and staring intently at his computer screen. 

“Your notes,” Barba says.

Carisi looks up briefly. “Hello to you too, counselor.”

“Yes, of course.” Barba taps his foot impatiently. “Greetings to you, detective, on this fine afternoon. Your notes on the Kingston case?” 

“Top of the pile.” This time, Carisi doesn’t even look away from the screen, just gestures vaguely. 

Barba sees the folder in question. Picking it up is another thing entirely. He looks down at himself. Coffee cup in one hand, coat draped over his arm, briefcase in the other hand. This is not going to work. Sighing, he puts his cup down on the edge of Carisi’s desk, deposits his coat over the back of the visitor’s chair. A quick glance at his watch tells him he has some time. He might as well have a look at Carisi’s notes now and get any glaring questions out of the way. Be efficient about it. He sits down and pulls the folder off the stack.

This seems to catch Carisi’s attention again. The clickety-clacking of his typing pauses. “Anything else I can do for you?”

Barba waves him off. “Don’t mind me, carry on. I’ll holler if you can be of assistance.”

“In the unlikely event, you mean.”

Barba delights in these little comebacks. They are what makes needling Carisi so much fun. “It’s like you can read my mind, detective.”

Carisi rolls his eyes and turns back to his computer, unsuccessfully hiding a smile.

In between sips of coffee, Barba reads over the thankfully typed notes. They are comprehensive, which he has come to expect from Carisi, who is one of the more organized detectives. He summarized his observations on the behavior of the perpetrator, a forty-three year old man who brutally raped his wife, added his thoughts on the motive after absolutely no signs, much less evidence, of domestic violence in their marriage of fifteen years, and mentioned possible problems with the statements from the victim and from the eight year old son, who witnessed at least part of his mother’s ordeal.

Barba leans back in his chair and gives himself a small but significant break. He can already tell this is going to be one of those cases. He’s going to ponder it in the shower in the morning, strategize during non-related court appearances that would deserve his full attention, and still contemplate it in the car on the way home. He’s always given his work as much of himself as he dared, but this kind of case, if he’s not careful, it’ll swallow him whole. 

As if to prove him right, the next page shows photographs of the victim’s injuries, numbered and marked for reference in Carisi’s less than neat scrawl. He doesn’t have the stomach to study those right now and turns the page quickly. The timeline of the investigation is a much safer topic. He skims over the details and is brought up short. There are extensive notes on previous court cases of a similar nature, on how they were prosecuted, what evidence was presented and how it was counteracted by the defense.

“Carisi,” he says slowly. “Did you base some lines of investigation specifically on what you thought would present as bulletproof evidence in court?”

Carisi shrugs, eyes still on the screen. “Well, yeah. We can investigate ‘til the cows come home, if it doesn’t get us a conviction, it’s for nothing.”

Barba is speechless for long enough that Carisi looks up and fully focuses on him, possibly for the first time since their conversation started. “What? Are the cases not applicable?”

“No, no. This is fine,” Barba answers absently, unthinkingly. “This is every prosecutors dream come true.” He remembers himself and adds, “I might shed a tear.”

Carisi frowns. “Was that a compliment? ‘Cause I can’t tell right now if you’re sarcastic or not.”

“As much as it pains me to tell you this, take the compliment and let’s leave it at that.”

Carisi side-eyes him. “Sure, counselor.” 

Now _that_ was definitely sarcasm. Barba smirks to himself and turns another page. This one is handwritten and a pain to decipher.

“I take it back,” Barba says, a few lines in. “I thought we were past you trying to tell me how to do my job.” 

He holds up Exhibit A as if to show it to a judge.

Carisi springs into action. “Oh, that’s just… That’s not supposed to be in there.” He tries to snatch the paper away, but Barba pulls it out of reach just in time. 

“Ah, no. I’m reading this, if you hadn’t noticed.” Sue him, he’s curious now.

“Fine,” Carisi says. “But remember you literally asked for it.”

Barba reads the pages. He reads them twice. They contain an outline for a prosecution strategy that Carisi apparently drafted for this case. Trying to get into practice, probably. Or aiming to improve his grades. He must be close to finishing law school by now.

Carisi has started up his typing again. Barba pulls a red pen from his briefcase and starts making notes in the margins. The rest of his coffee grows cold. 

He puts the pen down eventually and half expects to find apprehensive eyes watching him, but Carisi’s attention is still on his work. 

It strikes Barba then, how nervous Carisi isn’t under scrutiny. This isn’t a test, but it might as well be. Barba has wondered before, as much as he would ever waste time on such things, how Carisi’s admiration never translated into even a hint of insecurity when faced with his role model. False modesty aside, of which Barba doesn’t possess much anyway, there’s no question in his mind that this was how they started out: Him on a pedestal, and Carisi, bright-eyed and much too eager, trying to impress.

The pedestal is mostly gone by now, chipped away by every discussion about insufficient evidence, every “I can’t take this to court”, every “How could you?”. Barba has flaws, the world isn’t just, and Carisi is no longer oblivious to either fact. There’s still admiration, he thinks, owed to jointly fought battles and shared misery of justice not served. Admiration is something he can revel in. From his pedestal, he could barely tolerate. 

“Make a copy for me,” Rafael says and pushes the handwritten pages across the desk.

Carisi stares at him for a very long moment. “What, you wanna pass it around the office and have a good laugh with your lawyer buddies?”

“Do I strike you as the kind of man who has _buddies_?” Rafael says. “Sometime today would be preferable.”

Carisi still looks skeptical, but he takes off towards the copier. He almost bowls over Tutuola because he’s trying to read the comments in the margins on the way. 

In the end, Barba gets the copies which he slips into his briefcase. Carisi follows the movement with a frown, then looks back down at the originals in his hand. “Thanks for looking this over, I guess,” he says, like he still doesn’t trust the intention behind the deed.

“Don’t mention it,” Barba says. 

Just like Barba isn’t going to mention that Carisi may have saved him a few hours of work. The strategy isn’t perfect by far, but the groundwork and research seem solid. 

He gets up and gathers his things. He leaves his half-empty paper cup for Carisi to deal with. On a whim, he hesitates and turns back. “Come by my office tomorrow afternoon, and we can discuss the _effective_ strategy for this case. If you’re interested.”

Carisi looks stunned, then skeptical, then excited. “Sure I’m interested. I’ll be there. Thanks, counselor.” 

And there is that famous eagerness again, paired with a dimpled smile.

“See you tomorrow, detective,” Barba says. 

He doesn’t allow himself to return the smile until he’s safely behind the closed doors of the elevator.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I only finished binge-watching SVU for the first time shortly before S19 started. So, I'm new. Hello everyone! And because I've been pretty out of touch with any kind of fandom, I'm short a beta reader. I've got a longer Barba/Carisi fic in the pipeline and could use some feedback and beta support while I keep working on it (after Yuletide is finished, of course). If anyone would like to help me out, I'd be grateful if you commented here or contacted me via DW or tumblr under the same name. Thanks!


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